


"All I wish is to warm you."

by NotIshimaru



Category: 18th Century CE RPF
Genre: 18th Century, :) ??, Back rubs, Best Friends, Crushes, Friends to Lovers, How Do I Tag, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27566527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotIshimaru/pseuds/NotIshimaru
Summary: James Madison has a shitty day toward the end of his first semester at Princeton. It's very cold. After some more stress, he shares some relaxing time with his intimate friend, Joseph Ross.
Relationships: James Madison/Joseph Ross (d.1772)
Kudos: 6





	"All I wish is to warm you."

Princeton University: November 17th, 1769

I felt chilled.

That was the singular thought running through my head during Sir James Thompson's lecture. As opposed to my home of Virginia, the New Jersey Colony had been a stark difference in terms of weather. While I wasn't foreign completely to the concept of snow or cool weather, it was another thing to feel the hairs under my stockings lift from constant chills.

The perpetual chills became almost insufferable. Hence why my head was so detached from Mr. Thompson and the day's curriculum. It was currently nearing supper, and I would feel blessed to be anywhere but by the cold windowsill of a Latin literature class.

I let my eyes fall upon the tree in the courtyard. I was 'lucky' as to have such a wonderful view of the nature, and to be in such a close proximity to the outside from inside these stuffy classrooms. Although, as I come to the dwindling ends of my first semester at the College of New Jersey, I have to wonder how long it'll be until I ultimately catch a cold in this seat? 

My health has never been a talking point for any positive reason, nor was it something to ever pride my family with. One of these fine evenings, I predict I'll be found half-dead in this said seat with frostbite covering the tip of my nose and fingers. 

It was hard not to focus on this damned cold! What I wouldn't give for the warm backcountry of Virginia, where I could sit along the expanses of land and feel the mild humidity in my lungs. The choking heat was much preferred to the stabbing I feel every time I take in a breath, especially through my nose.

"Mister Henry." I heard sternly from behind me, although, I didn't hear any response back. I continued to stare out the window blankly, eyes glossing over and breath stilling somewhat. Steps crept up from behind me, causing me to break my fixed glance at Mother Nature and instead direct it to Mr. Thompson.

"Mister Henry," He repeated, "have you not been assigned your bout of the assessment? Our discussion, even?" Mr. Thompson asked me. I stared back at him, confused. He could see the narrowing of my pale eyes, and had taken that as an attack on his character. Before I could be reassured of an identity I hadn't possessed, I spoke.

"My name is James Madison, sir. We don't have a Henry in my class." My voice came out more shrill than I had expected, and it sounded as if I was a mouse in a corner-- squeaking out a pitiful response. I cleared my throat, then scanned the room, noticing how most eyes were now upon this scene.

"The only Henry here is Hughes. Henry is quite an inconsequential name, is it not? That name would never befit such a strong man as I." I joked at myself sarcastically, attempting to cause at least one person to react lightly. The chilling extended to my mind now, as I felt my brain stutter. There were too many eyes, it was too cold, and I had not a clue as to what the assignment was.

Mr. Thompson chortled out a short laugh, placing a hand on my notebook, which was lovingly opened for him to mock. My peers had seemed to take notice of this freezing scene, but not have so much empathy as to intervene when I was so outwardly weak. I licked my lips in anticipation for the worst.

"You, sir, are quite the comic. Your jesting is only tolerated in regards to the work I assign, yes?" Mr. Thompson tapped his finger on my notebook, where I had stopped writing.   
"Find the rhetoric in Quintus Horatius and the lofty work of his poetry. I look forward greatly to your future notes and undivided attention, 'James Madison'." Mr. Thompson, knowing it or not, had significantly helped me with this mockery. I quickly jotted down the name 'Horace', recalling it to be the English name for Horatius.

As Mr. Thompson stepped away from my pew, the bell signalling supper time had rung. Without question, the clock would be set just before seven. While a time consuming day, it was not as if I'd been singularly in this class since I'd waken up at four. 

No, no. I beseech myself, I indulge. Indulge greatly during the afternoon times. One to three is when I get to retreat to my room in the Nassau Halls, and as of right now, I would be finding myself dining with peers from all classes. With some newfound grit, I broke free of my seat and grabbed my books off the table. 

I only carried a few items. Aforementioned notebook, granite pencils, and loose parchment in case of emergency letter-writing. While quite silly as an idea, I found myself being pleasantly surprised at how many peers of mine would ask to borrow my spare papers. I made my way out of the room as one of the last, walking behind Hughes and Bedford. Neither of whom paid any attention to me.

That's quite cold of them. 

___

I entered the dining hall knowing full-well my day would brighten at the sight of my friends. While I might be meek in appearance, with my only outwardly trait being one of sass, I had still somehow collected a group of friends within my first months here. I entered in for a standing exam in August of this year, one-thousand-seven-hundred-sixty-nine. 

I searched around the hall instead of going directly to the pots of stew. While the warmth was enticing and drawing me in, I had the need for emotional warmth as well with my friends. With luck, though, I found my usual group by the back...

.. near the windows. 

"Lads," I stepped up to the table, surveying around and seeing the group all aggregated. I placed my book and pencils down for a moment in front of our token blonde, Philip Freneau, who curiously picked up the book. I needn't mind him, and instead continued to speak.  
"Might we find ourselves anywhere but this damned window? I have been freezing for two hours in Thompson's room." I complained to the table, standing with my trembling hands leant on the wood. 

Sat there was Philip, an astounding poet and a year younger than me. He was destined to write well and with grandeur, although, he was not the best roommate. He could be tenacious with his cleanliness and quite nosy, but he was my first friend here, and I excuse his personal flaws on the daily. Plus, he was usually the one who woke me up each morning for the five o'clock forced prayers. 

Even nosier was William Bradford, who sat diagonally across from Philip. Brad, as I enjoyed calling him, would always eye us up and totally deconstruct our feelings. He was thin, pretty, and powdered his hair so much that I couldn't tell what colour it was supposed to be originally. 

And finally was Joseph Ross. 

He sat next to Brad, messy brown hair and tired eyes ignoring Brad's prying eyes on him. Ross had a.. warm presence. He was a mystery to me, as he didn't show the same interest I did for law, and yet he mirrored many of my studies. Truly, he did more work than he needed to for his own classes, and it left me to wonder if he'd done that as a way to comfort me and my stress.

"Aww, Jim's dreading the northern cold? Is the north too forbearing?" Brad suddenly negged at me, then moving his hand in a roundabout motion for Philip to continue. Both Brad and Philip were from Pennsylvania and New York respectively. Ross? He stayed strangely quiet.

"James isn't used to winters here. It is only natural that he'd be so sensitive." Philip argued, finally putting down my notebook that he'd been flipping through. He pushed it toward me, then raised his bushy eyebrows.  
"How about you sit with us and we customize you to this weather with some soup?" Philip offered, with good intent, but no other intention on leaving. Brad smiled and Ross continued to hold his tongue.

"I can tell you about the wonders of snow." Brad laughed,   
"He's already quivering in anticipation!" He mocked. Brad was the youngest of us and certainly had the most difficult personality, but he's shown his soft side a few times prior. I understand him.. but I do not like him right now. 

I almost succumbed to the peer pressure, feeling my friends' eyes on me. Cold. Philip attempting to coerce me to stay, Brad picking apart my every move, and Ross' reservation. I sucked in a breath through my stinging nose and moved forward to the bench, but was stalled with a voice.

"No, sir." Ross stopped me, after careful thought, and stood up. He scooped up my items for me and brought one hand to my shoulder, patting there.  
"We'll be leaving. I happen to possess the location that will soothe you, James. Follow." Ross ordered, pulling me along and away from the table. Brad threw his hands up, as his new favourite toy had been taken from him.

Ross led me out of the dining hall. I would be one to complain about the lack of food, but my desire to be warm was far more than my usual hunger pains. It was easy to follow Ross, as he was taller than me and generally wore light clothing. He also looked behind himself every few moments to make sure I was there.

"It won't be too far, Lil' Jemmy." Ross playfully used a nickname, as we were alone in these halls. Most were secluded in rooms offset from branches of hallways, so he felt more comfortable loosening up. 

Again, Ross is a mysterious character. Enough so that, in the previous conversation about northern weather, I suspected that he didn't interject out of fear of others knowing his origins. Despite our friendship, he has yet to elaborate on himself.

He only talks about me. 

___

"Mine and Philip's room? This is where you are to soothe me?" I asked with a curt laugh, rolling my eyes. Ross scrunched his nose sourly and leant against my room's door, blocking me from being able to touch the handle without hitting his thigh. 

"Joe, please." I held my hand back as he blocked the path, prompting Ross to return the laughter. He swayed gently as I became playfully frustrated, then shooting a comment right back at me.

"You seemed disappointed. Until you are thankful for me removing you from the dining hall, I will be a distraction and keep you from your room." Ross said assertively, a grin on his tanned face. He played these games with me all the time, but always in a way to cheer me up. I appreciated them well.

Even with this energy, he was tired. Appeared as such, at least. I tilted my head at his buoyancy, cracking a smile as my braid swung to the change in gravity. He took this subtle affection as affirmation enough, opening the door for me.

I walked in and heard the thump of my schoolwork being tossed on the shared desk of mine, turning my head around to see Ross' clumsy hands attempting to shove papers back in my book. I giggled into my hand, feeling something blossom in my stomach at his display.

Ross then closed the door behind us, gesturing to the desk for me to sit. And so, I did, without question. He circled back around my chair and placed his hands on my shoulders, squeezing there supportively. I sighed at his touch, my aching muscles needing this movement.

It was wordless, our motions. I had become so tense from the hours of droning cold that I couldn't put to words how relieving Ross' attentions were. He delicately rubbed my shoulders and pressed his thumbs into the soft skin of my neck. I swear, I could feel his fingers dig into my collar in an attempt to loosen it. 

Ross' hands worked beautifully. He was the sun. I was warming up. I sighed out with each knot he'd work out, leaning my head back as a signal of my general pleasure. When I opened my eyes, I saw Ross staring back down at me.

"This," I breathed out, "is what you meant? I'm hardly complaining." I smiled, watching as Ross' lips formed into a shy smile. He didn't pause his movements, but instead attempted to keep the conversation off of him. Ross looked past me, at my notebook.

"Yes," Ross squinted, "and, forgive me, but is your notebook named 'A Brief System of Logick'?" He asked curiously. I hummed in affirmation, leaning forward and picking it up. It was 140 pages, but barely 50 of them had any writing. And, admittedly, I drew in them as well.

I flipped to the back of the book, where my drawings were. I had drawn my own version of the solar system and a few planets scattered around, but I was no artist, and they came off as quite unnerving. Ross slowed his massage, and instead tucked his face in my shoulder from behind, scanning the pages of my notes.

"Those are.. err, uh," Ross struggled to find a positive thing to say about my pages of crude drawings.   
"something." He patted my arms gently and resumed giving me attention. This time, with my hair, which I'd grown out.

Ross undid the tie at the end of my braid, then combed out my hair from the three different branches and melted it al into one. Personally, I liked my hair when it was braided. Three branches of something is much better than one singular power, yes? They can check and balance one another.

"Joe," I hummed.

"James?" He responded.

"Why do you study law so fervently if you don't want to pursue it?" I asked a question that had been on my mind for a while. If there be a time to ask, it would be now, when we were alone and could have a heart-to-heart.

Ross stalled his combing. I heard a sigh fall from his lips behind me, and felt the release of weight as he took his hands off of me in general. He paused cautiously, obviously trying to think of what to say in response. Even if I may know the answer deep down.

I slowly looked behind me, up at Ross. His blue eyes were darted at the ground and his hand was up on his jabot, fiddling with it. It was painful to sit in silence, but it would not last too long. I could be quite persistent.

"Do you enjoy spending time in my company, all the way from dusk to dawn, sir? And that's the motivation?" I followed up, shifting up and out of my chair. Despite our height difference, I felt as if I was taller. Like my words were strong. Unlike a shy mouse in the corner of a Latin lit. class.

Ross tore his eyes away from the floor and to me, a hand moving down to touch my own. His hand was dry and larger than mine, and he squeezed my thin fingers. I bit my lip at the sudden heat in my face.

"Yes." Ross whispered, then pulling down on my hand and embracing me in a hug. I fell into him willingly, hands pressing up against his back and feeling supported.  
"You know full well how much you burn me. All I wish is to warm you." Ross poetically confessed, sparing me some of his true intimacy. I continued to hold onto him. 

Being so close to him was otherworldly. 

The feeling of genuine comfort. 

It was something I never wanted to leave. 

If this were a perfect world for us living, I would only want to live with such happy feelings in my heart. 

In my body. 

In my soul. 

"May your wish be granted." I tucked my face into his shoulder and lost myself in the hug, emotionally finding peace. The stress of today melted away with Ross' presence. 

I felt warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic on AO3, lolol sorry. Also sorry about Bradford's characterization. I can't take anyone with the name "Brad" seriously.


End file.
